


Compromise

by squeeliferuiner



Series: Compromise [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crack Pairing, Lokiwell, M/M, accidental RP, this is entirely porn, this might be mostly an inside joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 01:38:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squeeliferuiner/pseuds/squeeliferuiner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sitwell has no idea how he keeps ending up in these situations. Oh, not his ops, he always expects those to go to hell. It’s his shipboard time that makes no sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compromise

**Author's Note:**

> So...I ended up in an accidental Avengers RP on Ravelry. And this happened, mostly off-camera. And I decided I need to write it up, because I'm procrastinating from studying for finals and dear gods what have I done.
> 
> Thanks to JosieMacG for the beta.

_Well. This is interesting._

Sitwell has no idea how he keeps ending up in these situations. Oh, not his ops, he always expects those to go to hell. It’s his shipboard time that makes no sense.

There’s an army of sentient corgis loose on the helicarrier. A giant lupine demigod has Barton cornered in the kennels. James Bond – yes, that Bond – is getting into trouble somewhere. Coulson apparently ate some bad cookies and is begging someone to find him a tiara. And there’s a rope-bound god of mischief waking up from a Taser shock with a vicious glare in his very pretty green eyes in Sitwell’s quarters.

That’s not the interesting bit.

The interesting bit is the other look gleaming in Loki’s eyes. The predatory one that shows up as Sitwell is attempting to explain over the comms to AD Hill that Loki is in his quarters because Medical refused to take him after last night’s episode with Barton and the current one with Coulson – they can only deal with so much restraint-requiring crazy at one time – and there was nowhere else to stash him while the thing with Bond and the corgis and Fenrir gets sorted out, and _no,_ he isn’t planning to get handsy, because he’s not that desperate (except he may have hit on Barton yesterday, so he totally is, although he won’t even admit to himself whether he was serious or just trolling Barton because that never stops being funny) and besides, Loki’s still unconscious. Except he totally isn’t, which Sitwell realizes when he glances over at his erstwhile captive and sees that look and realizes that Loki heard every single word he just said to Hill.

Agent Inuka, the kennel mistress, says something about the dogs and Fenrir. Sitwell isn’t listening. He’s watching Loki and that _look_.

“Tell her my son wasn’t aboard before today, and that he wouldn’t stoop so low as to mate with mortal _dogs_ ,” Loki murmurs.

Without breaking the eye contact, Sitwell relays the message. And then: “oh, yeah. Loki’s awake.”

A long beat of silence, and then: “And there go the tattered remains of my sanity,” from Barton. Loki grins, a slow smile with a lot of teeth to match the look in his eyes.

“If it helps, I haven’t untied him yet, so it’s not like he’s going anywhere. I could tranq him to keep him out of the way but this is more entertaining,” Sitwell finds himself answering. He’s pretty sure he didn’t mean to say that last bit, but no one seems to notice, because the next thing he knows, Hill’s suggesting that he’s in charge while she deals with Coulson, and that grin _sharpens,_ and the ropes with which he had bound Loki are gone and the god is on his feet, looming, and he’s _leaning over_ and murmuring in Sitwell’s ear, and he pulls away with a smirk, and Sitwell blinks and says, “Ma’am? Loki says you shouldn’t leave me in charge because apparently I’m going to be otherwise occupied for awhile. I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

He doesn’t hear the snarky comment that comes over the comm. A long-fingered hand plucks it away from him and purrs, “Agent Sitwell can’t talk right now. Leave your petty message and I’ll think about passing it on.” And then he shuts the comm off, and takes Sitwell’s chin in that hand, and Sitwell’s mouth is dry and he can’t _think_ because oh my god (literally), those eyes are laughing and _hungry_ and the air feels stifled and heavy between them and he can’t _breathe_.

“This is a joke, isn’t it,” he manages. “Let’s see how far we can wind up Agent Sitwell.”

“Well. I _do_ owe you a revenge for that nasty little shock you gave me.”

“You dribbled a basketball off my face.”

Those fingers touch his face far more gently than he expects. He blinks.

“You don’t seem to have been harmed by it.”

“And you don’t seem to have been harmed by my Taser.”

Loki’s thumb strokes Sitwell’s lower lip. Loki’s breath ghosts over his ear. “Such sass, Sitwell.”

“You gonna kill me now because I sassed you?” Sitwell answers roughly.

Loki’s answer is a smirk, inches from his face, and then Loki’s smug mouth is on his, and Sitwell can’t help it because he _is_ that desperate, his lips part under the god’s and what is he even _doing_ , and he doesn’t know, but, well, it’s interesting. And probably a terrible idea, but Loki’s mouth is hot and wet and his tongue slides along Sitwell’s and his fingernails trace a line around the whorl of Sitwell’s ear and one hand is on his hip, heavy over the wool of his suit, and Sitwell’s skin feels entirely too tight for his body as he does his best to devour Loki’s mouth.

And then that mouth slips along his jaw, presses against the fluttering pulse in his throat, exhales surprisingly cool air in a nip at the tender skin under his ear. A low noise comes from his throat before he can stop it, and he can feel Loki smile against his skin as he yanks at the knot in his tie and the top buttons of his shirt and his hands slip into Loki’s hair as Loki moves to mouth his collarbone. 

Loki pushes him back, back, till his calves hit the edge of his bunk and he sits down hard and Loki’s there looming again and he scrambles backward and Loki’s suddenly _naked_ , how and when did that happen, oh, he doesn’t care because would you _look_ at those long, lean lines and he _wants_ , and his hands go for his belt buckle and Loki’s helping pull his trousers off even as he’s sucking bruises and leaving little red tooth-marks on Sitwell’s belly. Loki’s nails rake over the tender skin covering his hipbone and Sitwell _groans_ and his hips cant off the bunk. Loki grins that feral grin at him again even as he’s moving to lap at Sitwell’s cock with his tongue, his breath still cool over the damp trails he leaves, and Sitwell groans again and his head falls back as Loki’s mouth surrounds him, works him, sucking and licking and “oh, _fuck,_ Loki,” and he doesn’t realize he’s said that out loud until Loki laughs, the vibrations in his throat rumbling against his cock and he arches up again, wanting to thrust into that mischievous mouth. Loki stops him with an arm to his hips.

His comm buzzes. Loki pulls away to answer it. “No need to mount a rescue mission, my dear Spider. You’ll have Agent Sitwell back shortly, unharmed, no less. He’s been most…cooperative.” He smirks at Sitwell, who lunges for the comm and manages to wrestle it away from Loki, pinning the god back against the bunk in the process.

“I can handle myself, Agent. I don’t need rescuing,” he hisses at Romanova, before shutting the comm down again and leaning in to nip at Loki’s sharp collarbones with his teeth.

“What do you want?” he asks against Loki’s throat, feeling the god’s sharp intake of breath under his mouth as his hand reaches for Loki’s length and slowly strokes up it, thumbing lightly at the head of it.

Loki pushes himself into Sitwell’s hand and gasps. “What do I want? I want you on your back.” He pushes up from the bunk and flips them, so he’s hovering over Sitwell again. His lips curve up into a smile and he runs a fingernail across one of Sitwell’s nipples, following it with a flick of his tongue. “Helpless, while I ride you.”

 _“Fuck_. Oh god.”

“Precisely.”

Loki pins his hands above his head, then a moment later cool metal surrounds his wrist and he hears the snick of handcuffs. He pulls, only to find his hands cuffed around the support beams around his bunk. “Are those my cuffs?” he asks, a vague thrill of danger curling into his stomach.

“Of course. Why would I have a reason to carry handcuffs?” Loki raises an eyebrow at him and leans down to kiss him past words again, his hand slowly stroking over Sitwell’s ribs, down the plane of his belly, hard over his hipbone again, feather-light and torturously slow on his cock.  “You, on the other hand…I’m assuming those are standard SHIELD issue, yes? So you’ll know better than to try to get out of your…predicament.”

“Not that I’d want to right now…”

“You talk too much.”

Loki’s mouth descends on him again, smirking around his cock, one finger stroking his balls and then Loki rises to his knees and crawls up Sitwell’s body. “Lube?” he murmurs against Sitwell’s mouth. Sitwell shudders and nods in the direction of his storage drawers and Loki slides away and returns a moment later with the small bottle and a condom. The latter he slides onto Sitwell, then the cap of the lube bottle pops open as Loki straddles his thighs and reaches a slick hand toward his cock, and Sitwell groans, low in his throat, rocking up into Loki’s grasp, and then Loki’s rising up, one hand reaching back, back, toward his own entrance, loosening himself up, and Sitwell shudders again at the sight.

“See something you like?” the god purrs at him, and he answers in a growl. Loki only smirks, then his hands are holding Sitwell in place as he slowly, so fucking slowly, starts to lower himself onto Sitwell’s cock, and Sitwell wants to thrust up into him _hard_ and force him to take his whole length, and he can’t because Loki’s hands are holding him down and oh my god he’s fucking a _god,_ he’s inside a god right now, and Loki’s _keening_ as he rocks onto Sitwell, a long sound that Sitwell echoes as he pushes up against Loki. The chain of the cuffs rattles as he pulls against the support beam, wishing he could leave grasping fingerbruises in Loki’s hips, run his calloused fingertips over the god’s cock, pull Loki down to plunder his mouth. Instead all he can do is watch as Loki moves above him, as Loki takes his own cock in hand and throws his head back and _writhes,_ and _feel_ the tightness of Loki’s ass surrounding his cock, sweet friction as Loki changes the angle slightly and oh, there’s that sound again, the one that gets right down into him and makes him want to tear Loki apart, smirk by slow, knowing smirk, because this is so deeply unfair and who’s he kidding, of course it’s not fair, he’s _fucking the fucking god of chaos,_ and he hears himself crying out words and gradually realizes that what he’s saying is “please,” over and over, and Loki’s nails are raking down his chest and the god clenches hard on him and his thighs tremble and he comes, and Sitwell is surprised to see it’s like a human’s and then he can’t think anymore as his own orgasm is yanked out of him, one hard thrust, two, and he sprawls back.

His shoulders ache from pulling against the cuffs. He blinks up at Loki, who smiles down at him, sweetly satisfied, like a cat who’s finally caught the prey he’s been toying with. Loki leans down, and breath tickles his ear. “Thank you, Agent Sitwell,” he pulls back and that smile starts to turn wicked, “for your cooperation.”

And he rises, one hand reaching to remove the condom from Sitwell, tie it off and flick it toward the trash bin, and blows a kiss at Sitwell before disappearing with a flash and a laugh.

Sitwell groans quietly and starts to get up. And then realizes that Loki didn’t undo the handcuffs, just as Romanova breaks through the door with a container of some sort in her hands.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” he tries to explain. Then glances down. “Okay, it totally is. Please don’t hurt me.”

She doesn’t say a word, just upends the container onto his crotch and disappears out the door again, leaving Sitwell to scream and shake and beg to the silence of his four walls as the fire ants she brought with her do unkind things to his anatomy.

Not one of his better ideas, overall. But interesting. 


End file.
